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Demon of Fear
Part of the Downworlders' Revenge series. Summary Sixteen year old Angela Branwell has known she was a Shadowhunter since she was nine years old, and is proud of her angel blood. She fights demons with her three best friends and her mother in Seattle - alone, until two mysterious boys show up, and one of them kidnaps Angie. Dragged into the world of greater demons and faeries, warlocks and vampries, Angie must grapple with the Fair Folk to get her mother back, while the threat in the form of a handsome, cold Shadowhunter looms right over her shoulder. Prologue "Angela, we can't be together anymore." "Why not?" Angie didn't want to say it, but the words escaped her lips. Ethan turned, the shadows consuming his face. He dropped his hands from Angie's shoulders, and stuffed them into his pockets. As he answered, he wandered a way a bit, so Angie had to move closer to hear him. "I've...moved on," he said, in a voice so quiet that Angie had to strain her ears to hear him. "To whom, may I ask?" Ethan smiled, and turned, finding Angie right in his face. "Always the lady," he said with a chuckle, but Angie wasn't smiling. Her face was stony as Ethan tucked a strand of curly dark red hair behind her ear, and gazed into her eyes. "I..." "You don't have to tell me...I just thought..." "Rosie." "O-oh. Okay." Angie closed her mouth and bit her lip, taking a step back from Ethan. She pulled her hood up over her head to protect her hair from the drizzle, and Ethan could no longer see her face. Angie felt her eyes burn with tears that threatened to roll down her face, but she blinked them away, and cast one last look up at Ethan. "I'm sorry it came to this," she whispered. She patted his shoulder in an awkward sort of way, and then turned, abruptly departing. Ethan stared after her, dumbfounded, as she disappeared into the subway. "Wait!" If Angie heard Ethan, she ignored him, but by the time she reached the deserted platform, his heavy footsteps were pounding behind her. She could hear his heavy breathing and smell the scent of his shampoo mixed with the sweat of the run, and she turned, just as Ethan yelled, "What the hell are you doing?" Ethan was pushed against the wall between the stairway and the platform, a slight, dark-haired figure at his throat. The newcomer was tall, and well-muscled, wearing a white shirt and black pants. Angie could see some sort of tattoos swirling up his arms and back, and the belt around his waist was stocked with weapons. "Who--who are you?" she tried to call, but her voice came out as a whisper as the figure drew out a long, curved blade and held it at Ethan's throat. Ethan gurgled, his eyes bulging as the boy dug the sword in deeper, and Angie stumbled forward, tripping. The boy was instantly there to catch her, making sure she didn't fall. Angie met the stranger's eyes, and his gaze pierced her like glass. Startled, Angie staggered away, and the boy let go of her. Feet away, Ethan was recovering from the unprecedented attack. Ethan crumpled. The boy had moved so fast that Ethan had no time to duck out of the way of the oncoming sword, and it hit him, the flat side of the blade hitting his forehead, and knocked him unconscious. He was slumped over against the wall, blood dripping from the top of his head and into his hair. "What did you do?" Angie cried, pushing past the boy towards Ethan. She felt wrist for a pulse, and was startled to find none. She cast a furious and frightened glance up at the boy - only to discover that he was gone. Scared, angry, and helpless, Angie let out a scream of frustration as the first train of the morning barreled into the Seattle subway. 1 - Mad World " All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for the daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere " ::: -- Gary Jules, Mad World Angie let her bow slide through her fingers as she listened to Evan nailing target after target with his stele. She murmured tonelessly, letting her fingers slide over the smooth wood. She barely noticed when Eddy sat down beside her and patted her hand. "I know you're upset about Ethan," he began quietly. "But it wasn't your fault." Angie turned, giving him a stony gaze. "I could have saved him," she said in a small voice. "I could have used something...I could've called 9-1-1, I--" "There's nothing you could have done," Evan said firmly. He patted her on the back. "Now let's go and check on Meri and Eddy. They're probably making out or something." Angie gave a weak chuckle, and wasn't surprised when Evan's spectulations turned out to be true. Meri shot her brother - Evan - a furious glare, and waved her dagger threateningly in his face. Evan tipped his head. "You can't hurt another Shadowhunter." Meri snorted, and Eddy helped her pull on her jacket. When all four were ready to go outside, Angie pushed open the hard wooden door and let a blisteringly cold gust of air into the house. Snow had trickled in and there was a pool of slush on the front porch. Angie ushered her friends down the walk and they headed toward The Crumpet Shop, a little coffee/café shop on 1st Avenue. The fogged windows had never been more welcoming, thought Angie as she pulled her hat down over her ears and held the door open for her friends. Steam blew out of the shop, and Evan breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of chocolate pastries and coffee. "Wonderful. As usual," he added as an employee came rushing past. She shot him a white-toothed smile, and he grinned stupidly as he, Meri, and Angie sat down at the bar against the window. Eddy turned to get their coffees and crumpets. Meri slumped in her seat, resting her hand in her hands. "It's hard work being a Shadowhunter," she complained. Angie hushed her. Shadowhunting wasn't something to flaunt. Demon hunting was a dnagerous affair, and being flippant about it in public...demons could be anywhere, could be Glamoured as anyone. You had to watch your back, especially if you were one of the only four Shadowhunters in all of Seattle. Or so Angie, Evan, Meri, and Eddy thought. They hadn't heard of any other Shadowhunters, so they figured it was safe to assume they were the only ones. How wrong they were. *** "Hi!" A small figure darted into the street in front of them from the alley between the Crumpet Shop and the apartments next door. "Hey, little man," Eddy said. Eddy had always had a way with young children, and now was obviously no exception. As the boy came closer, his looks became more visible. He was short and thin (he couldn't be older than twelve), with a mop of curly blond hair and blue eyes that were the color of the summer sky. His skin was nearly as pale as the surrounding snow, and he was bundled up in a thick winter coat with a furry hood. Mittens covered his hands and he looked barely able to move through all of his padding. "I'm Tim," the boy said. "Nice to meet you Tim," Evan said kindly. "What are you doing out here? Where are your parents?" Tim paused for a moment, smiling, before replying. "They're back at my...house." Angie mirrored his smile with curiosity. "You'd best be running home. It's getting cold," Eddy said. He patted Tim on the back, though Angie doubted the boy could feel it thorugh all of his coats. "My brother--" "Your brother what?" The new voice came from behind the four, and Angie turned around, visibly startled. The boy she saw nearly made her faint, and, as it was, she stumbled back against Evan. If the boy recognized her, he didn't acknowledge it. He was Ethan's killer. 2 - Home " Hold on, to me as we go As we roll down this unfamiliar road And although this wave is stringing us'' along'' Just know you're not alone 'Cause I'm gonna make this place you're home " ::::: -- Phillip Phillips, Home The image of Tim's brother was glued to the insides of Angie's eyes; his piercing eyes and windswept dark hair were frozen in place in her mind. Angie jerked in her sleep, cocooned in her sheets like an ensnared butterfly. Her dark red hair was spread out in a disturbed halo around her head, and her eyes were squeezed tight, the fragile skin of her eyelids rumpled. Her fingers were curled tightly around the end of her blanket, her nails digging into her palms through the thin gabric, her knuckles white. Though the face of Tim's brother wasn't disturbing or particularly frightening, Angie kept reliving the moment of him killing Ethan - the way he chucked his sword (a stele, Angie realized later) at Ethan's head and it thwacked him straight in the forehead. An almost comical death, something Ethan definitely didn't deserve. A loud crash woke Angie, and she sat up bolt right, her grip on her sheets tightening. She scooted over on her bed to peer out the window, but she saw nothing. Not yet, at least. Angie slid a sweatshirt over her head and pulled on her sweatpants, silently opening the door. She cringed at the loud creak that resounded through the house, and slipped into the hall, thankful that all of the floors in her house were carpeted, and, thus, not squeaky. For once, Angie felt, her Shadowhunter stealth skills were coming in useful. She managed to slip out of the house with no one noticing. Though Angie knew it was freezing outside from earlier that afternoon, and despite her thin garments, the cold didn't seem to reach her. The wind seemed to breeze right through her, not letting its icy touch poke her, not letting the snow coating her hair freeze. Angie slipped around the corner and eyed her trash bins warily. No animal could have made that loud a racket, and anyhow, none of the bins were knocked over, so it couldn't have been that. "Dammit!" Angie whirled around, her shoes slipping on the thin ice coating the sidewalk. Losing her footing, Angie felt herself slide toward the hard sidewalk, she could practically feel the pain already - when an arm looped around her waist and she felt a hand on her back. The first words that came out of Angie's mouth were, "Who are you?" The boy looked taken aback, but it definitely was Tim's brother. Setting Angie back on her feet, he didn't answer, just took out his stele and touched the tip to Angie's hand. Angie jerked back, glancing at Tim's brother. The tip of the stele burned when it came in contact with her skin, and flowing black marks - like the tattoos that decorated Tim's brother's body - spread out from the tip. Angie gasped, but Tim's brother didn't look up from her hand. Runes, Angie recognized. Runic marks. "What--" Tim's brother drew the tip of the stele from Angie's skin, and Angie felt her wrists snap together as though bound by some invisible force. "Sorry about that," he said sarcastically, his voice not at all as Angie expected. "You were quite cooperative, you know. Trusting for a Shadowhunter." Angie recoiled as though he had slapped her in the face. "I--" "Don't bother. I'm kidnapping you, and that's that." "What--?" But Angie's vision was already going dark, and she felt herself go limp - and, as always, Tim's brother's arms were there to catch her. 3 - Ice " What I mean is, all I need is, Just a little emotion Cause all I see is you not feeling And you're giving me nothing nice I tried to do you right, why'd you have to go and turn to ice " ::::: -- Lights, Ice Angie's mind felt fuzzy, and every inch of her ached as though she had been pummeled with a sledgehammer. Memories of the previous night floated dimly through her numb thoughts, the most prominent of which was Tim's brother - tracing the rune over her hand and binding her hands together, making her vision go black, and taking her to this...this place. Opening her eyes, Angie saw a flurry of bright red hair, and two kind, though concerned, green eyes. The figure, female, sat down in the chair next to Angie's bed (she was in the infirmary?), and smiled. "Who are you?" Angie asked, her voice slurring. "Clary Herondale," the woman replied as her face swam into focus. "My husband Jace and I run the Institute here--" "Institute?" She was in a mental facility? Clary gave a short laugh, then clapped a slender hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. The Institute is a place for Shadowhunters, like yourself, to remain safe from demons. We train together, and live here together, and it's quite fun, actually." "Why was I--" Rolling her eyes, Clary replied, "My son, Chase, took my requests to the extreme. I told him to invite the Seattle Shadowhunters to our Institute." "Took that the wrong way then, didn't he?" Angie said, smiling. Clary nodded. "You can return home whenever you want, we just wanted to make sure you had recovered." Angie examined her hands. The runes Chase - Tim's brother, most likely - had drawn had faded until they were merely thick pink marks lacing across her skin. There was a faint tingle when she touched them, but otherwise she remained unhurt. "Thanks, but I had better get home soon. Disappearing in the middle of the night...it's not really my style." Clary flashed her an understanding smile, and helped Angie stand up. "Hang on," said a voice at the doorframe. "You can't just let her go. I took it to heart to freaking kidnap her!" Clary turned to look at her son. Angie's breath caught in her throat as she saw the dark, windswept hair, and the gray-green eyes that bored into her as though he could see through her soul. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, through which you could clearly see the black runes that swirled up his chest and his arms. "Chase," Clary said reprovingly. "Don't speak to your mother like that." Chase muttered something under his breath. Clary gave him a reproachful glare as she squeezed past him into the hall, leaving Angie alone with the icy Shadowhunter. "Why'd you kill Ethan?" Angie blurted. Chase, it seemed, had been caught of guard. "He was a demon, Angie!" "Angela," corrected Angie. "My name's not Angela," Chase said, baffled. "I'm Chase." Angie glared at him and made a face, and Chase laughed. "I'd best let you...recover," he said mockingly, turning around. Angie threw back the bedsheets and stood up, her hands balled into fists. She reached over her shoulder, instinctively, for her bow, but it was on the table next to her, her arrows gone. "Good thing Dad took away your weapons," Chase smirked. He stalked away, leaving Angie fuming, alone. Alone and abandoned. 4 Coming Soon! Category:Fan Fictions Category:Moderate